Yesterday Wyatt had a seemingly irrational tantrum and shattered our downstairs window by putting his hand through it. I was standing right there next to him, blocking the window with my body, but Wyatt's hand shot out to the side and struck the window just right. He was only wearing his diaper, but amazingly only got one tiny cut on his forehead. The window down there is about 2' x 4', an unfortunately non-standard size and hopefully not too expensive (or a pain in the butt) to replace. Ha!

He had been tantrumming for about 45 minutes and I was doing the "ignore" strategy. 45 minutes is his record for tantrums. Wyatt wanted to go back in Daddy's car and be driven around all day and possibly be taken out for french fries. Either that, or he hoped he would be driven to day camp like last week. Last week my husband dropped Wyatt off in the mornings and I picked him up afternoons. Another theory we have is that Wyatt is used to being driven into our one-car garage. We don't park Daddy's car in the gargage. It could be one of those theories that set Wyatt off, or maybe just the fact that sometimes Wyatt gets really agitated in Daddy's car and often has tantrums because he doesn't want to get out of the car. We decided that maybe we should make a rule that Wyatt never get into Daddy's car unless on the return trip we go in Mommy's car.

So after 45 minutes of tantrum, my husband wanted me to call 911 or something to report a psychiatric emergency. I said, no, it really wasn't bad enough to call it an emergency. I suggested that my husband remove himself from the situation since Wyatt's tantrum wasn't bothering me. I guess I am more used to letting Wyatt wind himself down. So, my husband decided to go and walk the dog. And that is when Wyatt broke the window, as we were watching Daddy drive off. Ironically, as soon as the window broke and Daddy returned to the house (immediately upon hearing the glass crack), Wyatt was absolutely calm.

Anyway, we were quite dismayed about the window. It seemed like the worst possible day yesterday, full moon, black cat crossing our path on the freeway (I'm serious!), broken window--at least it wasn't a mirror! It just seemed like such a downward spiral and my husband was pretty darn depressed. We had one of those hopeless dialogs where he said he's ashamed to admit that he doesn't think he can handle going on an outing alone with Wyatt if I am not there, too. He wants me to try to move up our Sept. 5th psychiatric appointment for Wyatt. Yeah, good luck with that, the waiting list is 1 month long.

Oh yeah, and because of yesterday's events my mom wants to cut her visit with us short and fly home instead of having us drive her.  I think she is afraid that Wyatt is going to be like the Tasmanian Devil at her house and break stuff.